by Kimberly Nee
Lifting her head, she rubbed one eye with her fingertips. “There. Now it is time to put this foolishness behind me and concentrate on finding a way to get back to Port Royal.”
Her spirit renewed, she leaned her head back against the rough wall. Her eyes were puffy and tired, and her head ached. “Very well. I will concentrate on that after I rest my eyes a spell.”
After her nap, she emerged from the cave to find the sun had begun its descent in the western sky. The ocean glowed as though it were on fire—streaks of orange and red and gold stretching out like flames across the glassy surface. The sky was almost gilt in appearance, fingers of red and pink splayed against pure blue and reflecting off the puffy white clouds.
She stopped halfway down the beach and stared at the strikingly beautiful scene. It was so perfect it hardly seemed real. Rather, it looked like a painting, perhaps done by Rembrandt, whose work her father loved and collected when possible.
The wind blew in from the now-calm water. The waves broke to send fingers of foam trickling up on the white sand. She shivered, wrapping her arms about herself as her hair blew wildly about her face. It was as beautiful as it was desolate, and the sense of total isolation crept over her.
The sand was cool beneath her feet and she sank into it. Scooping up a handful, she let it spill through her fingers. Twisting to peer at the cave, she almost hoped to see Diego emerge and walk down to join her at the water’s edge. But that wouldn’t happen. The most she could hope for was that he was stronger than the fever.
Chapter Seven
The Island of St. Phillippe
The Caribbean
There were times when Fiona Sebastiano simply wanted to throttle her husband, and this was one of them. “I cannot understand why you are so unconcerned, Iñigo,” she said, turning away from the window overlooking the harbor. “The Osiris should have returned at least ten days ago.”
He sighed softly, looking up from the papers scattered across his desk. “Of course I’m concerned, Finn. At the same time, I also know Diego well enough to assume his delay is most likely due to something of the female sort as opposed to something of the trouble sort.”
She clicked her tongue against her teeth. He had a point, as it wouldn’t be the first time a lady waylaid Diego in his return to St. Phillippe. Still, in all the years she’d known him, since he and Iñigo traded privateering for shipping, she couldn’t recall him ever being so late. Something wasn’t right and it lay heavily on her mind.
Rising from his chair, Iñigo skirted his desk to come stand behind her at the window. His hands cupped her shoulders, his thumbs lightly stroking along her shoulder blades. “There is little I can do, unless you suggest I send every ship in the fleet to scour every corner of this ocean. There is a lot of territory, you understand.”
“No. I don’t suppose that would be feasible.” She fought off a rising sigh as she sank back against his chest. He wrapped his arms about her and kissed the top of her head, a gesture that still sent tingling heat rippling through her. “Still, I don’t like it. Not a bit.”
His arms tightened. “I do know of a way to take your mind from your worries.”
“Iñigo!”
“What?” His voice rang with feigned innocence. “The children are sleeping. The servants are off doing whatever it is they do at mid-morning. I need only lock the door and—”
“Because Aidrian will be up shortly and Serena has a gift for crying at exactly the wrong time.” She turned in his arms to smile up at him. A mistake. One look at his darkening amber eyes and turning him away became a little more difficult.
A sensual smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he brought his hands up to curve about her cheeks. “I only need about five minutes, love.”
A breathless laugh found its way to her lips as he bent forward to kiss her. As he pulled back, she murmured, “Perhaps you do. I on the other hand, prefer a bit more than five measly minutes.”
“I beg your pardon, Capitán Sebastiano, but you have a visitor.”
Fiona sighed softly, Iñigo swore beneath his breath, and both turned to see Flora in the doorway. Iñigo gave Fiona one last squeeze before breaking their embrace. “Who is it, Flora?”
“Señor Portillo.”
A block of ice plummeted into Fiona’s belly at the maid’s lilting words. Alejandro Portillo was Diego’s first mate and second in command aboard the Osiris. For him to be there when the ship herself hadn’t reached port was a most ominous sign indeed.
The smile melted from Iñigo’s face and his eyes lost all hint of sinful sparkle. “Portillo is here?”
Flora nodded. “He is in the parlor, Capitán.”
The ice in Fiona’s belly melted to mingle with her blood. She shivered with foreboding and Iñigo nodded. “Show him in here, Flora.”
She bobbed her dark head. “Si, Capitán.”
The maid took herself off and Fiona turned to Iñigo as dread filled her. “This cannot possibly be good, Iñigo.”
He sank onto the edge of his desk, folding his arms over his broad chest. His expression was impassive, his eyes flat. “Let us just wait and see what Portillo has to say.”
“What do you think he will say?” She couldn’t bring herself to utter the suggestion as her belly rolled over in a slow crescendo.
“We don’t know, Finn. It could be a number of things—”
“Yes, and not a one of them good.” She couldn’t sit still; to do so required her nerves to calm and they were not being agreeable. Arms crossed, she trod along the edge of the blue and gold Persian carpet in the center of Iñigo’s office, from the desk to the wall lined with shelves, and back.
He made no move to halt her and did not admonish her about her relentless pacing as he did when he truly thought she worried over nothing. That he remained silent turned her gut even more.
Flora reappeared in the doorway with a clearly exhausted Alejandro Portillo. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in a month. Faint bruises marred his face in various degrees of mottled purple and yellow shades. A nasty gash over his right brow was only partially healed and a dirty bandage wrapped about his neck.
As he entered the room, he limped as though his right leg refused to hold even a fraction of his weight. His clothes almost hung from him—dirty and tattered and looking very much as though they belonged to another man.
“Captain Sebastiano…”
“Come in, Alejandro,” Iñigo growled, gesturing to the pale blue damask sofa by the fireplace. “Sit.”
“I am afraid I have terrible news.” Alejandro’s voice was thin and reedy, without a hint of its normal laughter. The knot in Fiona’s belly tightened. There was only one other time she’d ever seen him so serious, and that was when she was first introduced to the man who was now her husband. A reluctant cabin boy then, she was eyed with suspicion by every member of Iñigo’s crew. Of course, none knew she was a girl, and all thought her uppity for a cabin boy. It was only after Iñigo married her did they learn the truth.
Iñigo crossed to the sideboard where he kept decanters of liquor for much-needed breaks. He poured two fingers’ worth of brandy into a crystal glass and walked back to press it into Alejandro’s hand. “Where is Captain Santa Cruz?”
Steeling herself for terrible news, Fiona clenched her hands into fists, allowing her fingernails to bite into her palms. Her heart hammered in her chest as she waited for Alejandro to take a long sip, and she silently urged him to hurry as he lingered over that one swallow of brandy.
Finally, he lowered his glass, looking pained. “I do not know, Captain Sebastiano.”
Irritation dug sharp claws into Fiona’s belly. “What the devil do you mean, you don’t know?”
“Fiona.”
“No, Iñigo. I would like an answer.”
“My lady—” Alejandro circled the sofa to refresh his drink, “—if I knew, do you not think I would tell you?”
“What happened?” Iñigo demanded as Alejandro filled his glass halfway.
“We left Bridgetown, sailing toward Jamaica.” Alejandro drained half his glass before crossing back to the sofa, where he sank down without waiting for an invitation. “Jorge spotted the ship off the port side and when she refused to run up her colors Captain Santa Cruz called us to prepare for battle.
“The Nereus was her name and she offered up no warning. Just began firin’ her cannon. Chainshot, no less.”
“Chainshot…” Fiona’s blood ran icy again as it drained from her face and a sick feeling stole over her. Sinking down onto the edge of Iñigo’s desk, she murmured, “Was he killed?”
Alejandro was quick to shake his head. “No, my lady. He wasn’t. Wounded, yes. Terribly so. Pinned to the deck by the splintered mast.”
Fiona swallowed hard as Iñigo sank beside her and slid an arm about her waist. “So what happened?” he asked, his voice husky and raw, a tone she’d never heard before.
“We went down.” Alejandro said this without emotion, just a simple matter-of-factness in his voice that suggested he was still numbed from it. “The ship broke up in a matter of minutes and went down with over half her crew still below deck.”
“And Captain Santa Cruz?” she whispered breathlessly.
Alejandro shook his head. “The Nereus’s captain himself took Captain Santa Cruz. Took him, and left the rest of us to die.”
Relief flooded Fiona, and judging by the look on Iñigo’s face, she was not the only one feeling it. Reaching up to comb his fingers through his hair, Iñigo said, “And how is it you survived?”
“The captain of the Trident plucked me from the water. Me and Guillermo. The rest were gone.”
Iñigo closed his eyes and Fiona squeezed his thigh. Many of the men who served with Diego had been Iñigo’s crew when he sailed on the María. When Iñigo had retired from the seas, they signed on to serve under Diego. She shared his sense of loss for the men who were friends as well as crewmates.
“The Trident’s captain, Lewis, tried to follow the Nereus, but a storm blew up and we were blown off course. The last sighting was off Guadeloupe.”
“Bloody hell…” Iñigo sighed softly, rubbing his eyes. “They could be anywhere between here and Bermuda.”
Fiona glanced up at her husband. “Then you had best prepare more than one ship, Iñigo.”
“Are you mad, Finn? Search the entire Caribbean? That would take months and still not guarantee we would find him.”
“So then, what do you intend to do?” she demanded, sliding down from the desk. “We must go and search. We can start where the Nereus was last sighted. You cannot stay here and simply hope he returns.”
“What would you have me do, Finn? As I said, what you suggest is madness. We have no way of knowing which port the Nereus was sailing for, and it would be impossible to search every port between here and Bermuda. Even if I had enough ships and manpower it would be impossible.”
“Then I will go,” she snapped, crossing her arms and glaring at him. How could he simply sit back and not do a bloody thing about trying to find Diego? Unacceptable.
“The hell you will,” he replied tersely, glancing from her to Alejandro and back again. “Have you forgotten, there is a six-month-old child asleep in the nursery. Who, pray tell, will nurse her when she wakes?”
“I will hire a wet nurse from the village,” she replied shortly, striding to the door in a rustle of linen and cotton. “Alejandro, you will come with me, won’t you?”
Alejandro stiffened, looking from her to Iñigo with no little discomfort. Setting down his now-empty glass, he hedged, “Well… I…that is…suppose—”
“You will do no such thing, Portillo,” Iñigo growled, narrowing his eyes to glare at the now white-faced sailor. “And neither will you, Fiona.”
It wasn’t often Iñigo used her true name, and that he did so now only irritated her. “Is that so?”
“It is. You will not set one foot in that harbor if I have to lock you in our bedroom to keep you from leaving this house.”
“Iñigo—”
“No,” he interrupted sharply. He didn’t raise his voice, but there was a definite anger in his tone. “You speak nonsense. I forbid the very notion of you taking the helm of one of my ships.”
Ignoring Alejandro, now shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other, Fiona shouted, “One of your ships? If I recall correctly, the Aidrian is my ship, is it not?”
“In name only,” he fired back, hands on his hips as he scowled at her. “And I’ll not argue it with you. I will go.” He turned to Alejandro. “Go down to the harbor. The Aquatic, the María and the Serena are all in dock. Check the taverns for as many of the crews as you can find and tell them I wish to see them first thing in the morning.”
Fiona sighed softly. “And of course, I will go with you.”
“You will do no such thing,” he snapped, shaking his head. “You will stay here with the children and I will find our wayward sailor.”
“But—”
“There will be no buts, Finn.” She knew from the tone of his voice that arguing would be pointless. Still, it offered up a whit of comfort that he was going to at least try to find Diego, who held a soft spot in her heart and always would. He was not only Iñigo’s dearest friend, but hers as well.
Still, Iñigo’s flat refusal didn’t sit well with her. It wasn’t often he treated her as less than an equal, and she never liked it when he was so high-handed. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn. I am every bit as capable as you when it comes to manning the helm.”
“Yes, but you are much more important here, love. Should something happen, I would much rather it happen to me.”
“Don’t you dare say such things.” Her annoyance faded at the realization that he was, once again, taking to the sea. He seldom sailed these days, but she was never entirely comfortable with even the shortest of voyages, even when they were unavoidable. St. John’s Island was less than a day by ship, and yet a voyage there meant sleepless nights for her as well. Now, without knowing how long Iñigo would be gone, well… she didn’t know how long it would be before her sleep went undisturbed.
She waited until most of the fire went out of his eyes before trying one last time. “Iñigo, nothing is going to happen. I want to go. Not because I’m trying to be difficult, or stubborn, but because I’m as concerned about him as you are. Please.”
His jaw tightened, and she thought he was going to refuse. Then, he let out a heavy sigh. “Everyone is right. I do spoil you. I only hope I don’t come to regret it.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling as Iñigo turned to Alejandro. “Warn everyone Madam Sebastiano will be aboard ship as well. But not until after you’ve gotten them on board.”
“Iñigo!”
Alejandro’s expression was solemn even if the corners of his mouth twitched. “I will go at once. And, I offer up my services to you, Captain Sebastiano.”
“Which I appreciate, if you are up to taking to the seas again.”
Alejandro nodded. “Of course, Captain. I will see you in the morning.”
Fiona stepped aside as he crossed to the doorway. “How is Guillermo?”
Alejandro shook his head. “He died aboard the Trident, my lady.”
Heaviness weighted her heart as she offered up a silent prayer for the genial man who served as the María’s cook. With his help, she’d learned a great deal of Spanish, had taught him a smattering of English in return, and, when she served as Iñigo’s cabin boy, she’d shared many a laugh in the María’s galley with him.
Iñigo’s face darkened. “You realize the folly of this, don’t you? I cannot guarantee that I will find him.”
“I understand that. But at least you will have tried.” She reached up to rub her forehead. A headache had taken root behind her eyes and began its slow, steady creep outward. “I should tell Adeline.”
Alejandro shook his head. “I already have. I thought she, being his wife, should know about Guille
rmo before anyone else did.”
She nodded slowly. “I should go to her. Though it was not the happiest of unions, she still must be upset just the same.”
“She took the news rather well,” Alejandro told her. “As you said, their union was not a happy one. I think she was more relieved than anything else.”
“Does she know Diego lives?” As Alejandro shook his head again, she added, “Then I shall be the one to tell her.”
“Why?” Iñigo demanded, moving over to join her. “I can tell you what Diego would say to that.”
“Still, she would want to know.”
“He would be furious with you for involving her.”
“I’m not involving her. She is still in love with him, you know. That never changed. He may have broken her heart, but that never changed her feelings for him.”
He threw his hands into the air. “Do what you must, Finn. But do not fool yourself into thinking this will result in some loving reunion.”
“I would like to thank the trollop who ruined him for her,” Fiona grumbled as she slid her arm through Iñigo’s and they made their way from his office. “And for what? She broke his heart. But now, he and Adeline can be together as they were meant to be, from the beginning. Enough time has passed. He must have forgotten her by now.”
“Can we not discuss Diego’s bedmates now?” he asked mildly as Serena’s cry filled the air in a shrill wail. “I care not which woman he dallies with. At the moment, I am more concerned with finding him alive and in one piece. You can badger him about settling down once he is back here, safe and sound.”
She smiled. “Yes, well, it will give me something to occupy myself with whilst you are gone. Somehow, I will find a way to reunite them. They belong together.”
Iñigo didn’t reply, but she didn’t miss how he rolled his eyes. But, as Serena’s cries grew louder, there was no time to continue the discussion. Her daughter came first.
Chapter Eight